Love and Regrets
by imaniiebee
Summary: It's been 5 months since Wanda's insertion, and... well you'll just have to read. WARNING: contains limes and language. Pairings will switch, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own The Host, or any of the characters. Except Ian. Wait, what? I don't own him either? Damn! I don't get to own anything fun!**

**Note: The pairings in this are switched, Wanda/Jared, and Mel/Ian. LIME WARNING.**

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**Wanda POV:**

It'd been 5 months since I was inserted in Pet's body, and things between Ian and I were not working quite as smoothly as planned. Well, not planned, since I was expecting to be dead in the ground around this time, but eh. Semantics.

It was like… like I left all my love for Ian in Mel. Somewhere between the cyrotank and Pet's body, it got tossed out the window.

I feel nothing when I see his face.

No sweaty palms, not hummingbird heartbeat. Nothing.

I still think Ian is an amazing person, but… it's really just not the same. He doesn't fire me up like he used to.

If I'g gonna to be honest with myself, which I haven't been in a while, someone else does. It sends tingles down my spine just thinking his name.

Jared.

Jared Howe, who punched me and threatened me and wanted me dead.

The same Jared Howe who lied to me so effectively that night, almost made me believe that somewhere under his love for Mel, he wanted me too.

The Jared who held Doc with a knife to the throat, demanding that he go against my wishes and save my life.

That Jared.

Mel's Jared.

I've spent too many nights dreaming of his eyes crinkled as he smiles down at me, the feel of his rough, calloused hands gliding lovingly down my young, freckled skin. My nipples harden just at the thought, and the all-too-familiar warmth in my lady parts becomes painfully apparent. Well, not quite painfully, but you get the picture.

Sadly, Jared is Mel's, and I'd do nothing to hurt my sister. Even if it means denying myself the one thing, the one man, that my very heart desires.

oOoOoOo

I do my very best to ignore these feelings and make nice with Ian and Mel, who, to the vicious human side of me, has become a hostile enemy, as well as my very best friend. I smile at Ian when he walks in, place dutiful kisses on his mouth when he leans down to me.

I brush his skin with mine, run my fingers through his hair, trying to find the spark, vainly hoping to rekindle the fire.

But even in my deception, which has become all too easy in the passing months, my eyes wander, searching out the face of the man who sets my heart to a dead sprint.

I see him walk in with Mel, a careful distance between them, unlike the unbroken bond they once shared, always touching, always by each other's side.

I gleefully find evidence of them growing apart one minute, Jared brushing off Mel's concerned hand on his shoulder, or Melanie artfully maneuvering from his grasp, and the next find them gazing wistfully into each other's eyes before whisking themselves away to their room for, what we can assume, another passionate tryst.

When they did, I would turn to Ian, a trademarked smile plastered on my face, and whisper in his ear the things I knew would release his inner caveman, causing him to sweep me up into his arms and run to our shared room.

I would lay on my back, feeling his tongue in my mouth and thinking of Jared's, replacing the hands sliding down my naked body with those of a memory's memory. I would moan in all the right places, match Ian thrust for thrust.

But with no joy.

And when he was spent, I would lay underneath him, and wait for him to fall asleep until I wriggled out and left to bathe. I always made sure to be back before he awoke, and if he ever noticed I had left, he never said a word.

I loved Ian, in a way, and I would do anything to make sure he wasn't hurt.

Even by me.

Especially by me.

I would continue this farce of a relationship for eternity if I had to, because Wanderer never thinks for herself, or makes self-interested decisions. Wanderer was the best worker, best friend, best lover there was, and she would be damned if those who she cared about most ever thought differently.

**Jared POV:**

It'd been 5 months since Mel got her body back, and I wasn't as happy as I should have been.

I mean, honestly.

After all that fight, all the… pain I caused Wanda, after Wes and the Seeker and everything, everything I went through… I didn't want her.

I didn't want this Mel, not anymore.

Not even a little bit.

She was different. She wasn't as… innocent? I couldn't place my finger on it, but something about her had changed, and it wasn't an improvement. She was… snarky. And mean. I never thought I could see utter repulsion on her face, ever, but there it was, everytime she saw Maggie or Sharon. It even showed through when she saw Ian and Wanda sometimes.

I didn't understand what had changed.

Maybe I had spent so long seeing Wanda's expressions on her face, that I didn't recognize the ones I saw now. I had gotten so used to the kindness and gentleness Wanda infused in Mel's voice that I could hardly bear to listen to her without it. The words she said, the tone in her voice... it made me sick!

We fought all the time, and when we weren't yelling, we were fucking.

Mindless, hot, sweaty sex simply to release all of the pent-up frustration the both of us felt.

But I couldn't even get hard thinking that it was Mel I was about to fuck.

I had to replace her tan, long body with a shorter, paler, more freckled one in my mind. Every thrust was for her, for Wanda. I wanted it to be her.

But Wanda wasn't mine.

She was Ian's, heart and soul, and I couldn't do shit to change that.

I had driven her straight into his loving embrace back when I was blinded by my own pain and misplaced hate.

It had taken him holding her hand, and carrying her so gently in his arms, for me to realize it. He was the one who wiped away the tears I caused, he was the one who comforted her as I mercilessly slaughtered her family, babies. It was my own fault, my own damn fault.

I often thought back to the night she asked me to lie to her. I had long since realized my affections for her, but for some reason I could barely get the words out. All I saw was her, asking me to tell her I wanted her to stay. I said the words, putting all of my feelings in it, hoping she'd realize that everything I was saying was the truth.

But I knew, as she turned away from me, that she hadn't caught my hint. So, I caught her hand.

I saw my opportunity to make her stay. And I did it. I kissed her. And, fuck did I kiss her.

All I wanted to do was do it again.

I wanted so much to be the one holding her. I wanted her to look at me with that love in her eyes. I wanted to make her blush at the thought of all the dirty things I was going to do to her when we were alone. I wanted her heart to quicken when I walked in the room.

I sometimes thought I had gotten my wish. I would look up to see Wanda, and smile at her, and she would blush and look down, a small smile playing at her rosy, full lips.

I had accidentally brushed her hand one night, and I swear I saw her touching the spot almost… reverently for the whole rest of the night.

But it could mean nothing.

Or everything.

All I knew was that it was getting harder and harder not to push her up against a wall and kiss her senseless. I wanted my hands tangled in her golden curls, I wanted her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer.

But Ian was my friend, and Wanda didn't want me.

Even still…

I'd do anything and everything to make Wanda mine.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own The Host, or any of the characters. Except Ian. Wait, what? I don't own him either? Damn! I don't get to own anything fun!**

**Note: The pairings in this are switched, Wanda/Jared, and Mel/Ian. LIME WARNING.  
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**This chapter was extremely difficult and liked to dance away from me every time I tried to write it, so it is a tad bit shorter. But, read, review, and hopefully, enjoy.  
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**Ian POV:**

It had been 5 months since I got my Wanda, and... well. I kept getting this feeling that things between us weren't the way they were supposed to be.

God, I loved Wanda, I truly did. I loved her more than life, more than anyone.

But, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I fell in love with Mel's body just as much. As much as I denied it, as much as I reassured Wanda that I fell in love with her mind and her soul, it just was not true. I was so used to the feel of those rough, callused hands in mine, and the scarred face and bruised skin.

I couldn't reconcile the small, fragile, soft being in front of me with the tall, strong, domineering woman I was used to.

My mind kept straying from the lovely kitten right in front of me to the lioness just out of my reach.

And, getting to know the real Melanie, I found myself comparing her with Wanda, every minute of every day.

Melanie had this dry, sarcastic humor that had me laughing for the rest of the day, even into the next. She saw the world in this jaded, somewhat cynical way, so much so that you started to see things her way too, and wonder why you were ever so insane as to think differently.

She had a fierce loyalty, and her face could be so expressive and yet so closed off. She was a mystery to me, where as Wanda was always an open book, always so easy to read.

Mel was a mystery to me and I couldn't help but long to peel back all of her layers and reveal the real Melanie to myself.

I could see, in her, a fierce vindictiveness towards those who still hated her, and it at once intrigued and frightened me. On her face, I saw the bitter betrayal and hurt that was missing on the trusting, forgiving face of Wanda, and, as much as it scared me, I liked it.

Mel reflected the feelings I had in myself, and encouraged them, letting me know it was okay to be angry, while I felt compelled to hide them around Wanda, so as not to affect her delicate sensibilities.

And, fuck, but Melanie was hot.

Melanie had so many scars and flaws that enticed me so much more than the gentle, unblemished beauty of Wanda. Melanie's imperfection made her real, tangible. I felt like Wanda resided behind the thinnest layer of plastic. I could touch her and feel her, but she wasn't really there, not for me.

Her long, tanned body called to me day and night, and I found myself picturing her writhing beneath me, screaming for me to go deeper and harder, gripping my shoulders in an unforgiving death grip as she left marks from her nails digging into my skin. I imagined her against a wall as I pounded into her relentlessly, passionately stealing my breath away with her frantic kisses.

I didn't get that with Wanda. Our lovemaking was always gentle, always slow.

Always incredibly, mind-numbingly boring. I found that, more often than not, I had to picture Mel in my mind just to finish.

I was disgusted with myself.

Here I was, with a girl I was almost sure loved me completely and wholly, and I was thinking of another girl while making love to her.

And not just some random girl.

Her sister.

Her best friend.

Her Melanie.

Oh how I longed for her to be _my_ Melanie.

**Melanie POV:**

It had been 5 months since I got my body back, and I damn well wasn't as happy as I should have been.

I mean, after almost two years of complaining and fighting and pushing and pushing and _pushing, _I finally had control of my own body, and I found myself constantly missing the way things were.

I was really used to Wanda handling everything.

Wanda knew how to handle all the hatred and the tense situations.

Wanda knew how to be selfless and loving and caring and _giving_.

Wanda knew. And I didn't.

I had grown lazy and complacent in the back of my own head, and it took forever for me to get used to having it again.

I spent a week just regaining motor control. Who knew it would be so easy to forget how to do things I had been doing for nearly 27 years? I still spoke with a slight lisp and found myself stumbling over air. It was embarrassing and degrading.

However, it too passed, and I found my emotions had become difficult as well.

I felt hate. Pure, unadulterated hatred against the _family_ that dared turn their backs on me. It didn't matter that I would do the same in their place. How _dare_ they _hit _me and _degrade _me! We were blood! They were supposed to be there for me through thick and thin and they left me high and dry with out a second thought.

I felt lonely. My head was far too big and empty by myself. I yearned to have Wanda sharing the vast space with me again. There were times where I felt this clenching in my chest and prickling at the corners of my eyes, and all I could do slide to the ground and wrap my arms tight around my waist, desperate to hold myself together. I couldn't stand being away from Wanda, and the only thing that made it worse was the fact that Wanda seemed to be getting along just fine sans me.

But the very worst thing I felt, constantly, incessantly, was love. Not for Jared though. No, I felt the all-consuming, soul-changing, bond-forging love that Wanda left in me for one Mr. Ian O'Shea.

Oh, but I loved him. So, so, so very much. He believed me, or rather, us, first, besides Jamie and Jeb, that is. He took care of us, he protected us. He poured his love into us, and for all my denying and complaining I loved him straight back for it. Even Jared, the man I had thought I would be with forever, had taken one glance at us and deemed us unworthy to live. How could he not believe I would fight? After every talk we had, all the long nights we spent talking while Jamie slept in my lap... How could he not even try to find me, to bring me back? How could he hurt me? How could he be so ready to kill me? Me! Melanie Anne Stryder! He promised to love me always and forever. He said it to me, that first night we made love. He whispered it to me with every thrust, using it to smooth away my whimpers of pain. I gave him the most precious gift of myself, everything I had, everything I was.

It was no wonder I could barely stand to look at him. He took so much from me, so much.

But Ian. Ian gave. He gave us hope, and caring, and devotion.

He gave and gave and gave, even knowing we loved Jared.

Even knowing he had the slightest chance he gave, for whatever reason appeased him.

I wanted him, so badly. I thought about nothing else, but how I knew he could heal the jagged edges of my soul, just with his touch.

I dreamed about going to him, laying in his bed, feeling him thrust away my pain.

I went out of my way just to see his handsome face, those lovely sapphire blue eyes trained on my face.

And every time he greeted me, or smiled at me, or brushed my skin with his, while most of me rejoiced, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

I was lusting after the soulmate of my sister. Wanda, who saved me, and went against her own _nature_ in order to bring me back to my family.

I loved her dearly and trusted her and never wanted her out of my life, but I wanted her out of Ian's.

I selfishly thought that she didn't really need him like I did. She didn't need the healing and the level of compassion I required.

She could find anyone else, but I needed Ian.

I needed him.

The days wore on, and my conviction of making him my own grew stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

I needed Ian and I would have him. Wanda would be fine. She would. And I wouldn't be betraying her, not in the slightest, because she would want me whole.

I lied to myself every morning, every minute, knowing that it would soon start to feel true.


End file.
